


On My Way to Find You

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [53]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Early Days, F/M, Falling In Love, Sexual Content, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13784253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: The women in Jaime's life before he meets Brienne.Title comes from the movie Sing Street, sung here by the actor who played Conor in the movie. Here he is all grown up!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0yxO3LPeqg





	On My Way to Find You

**Author's Note:**

> We've seen Brienne's pre-Jaime relationships (Gendry, Hyle and Jaqen). Now, let's take a look at Jaime's!
> 
> This is a prequel, and is also a kind of flash-forward. You'll see!
> 
> My FridayFabFic comes late due to a bad case of migraine:  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ohcaptaintarthister

The Spring Fling was the last event before school ended for the summer. The gym was decorated with pink and silver balloons and there was live band onstage. Girls wore pretty dresses, in soft pinks, delicate lavenders, hazy blues. Boys were in button-down shirts and pressed slacks.

The band was playing a slow, romantic ballad that halved the number of dancers on the floor. Jaime and Melara were one of the couples that remained, looking in each other’s eyes as they gently swayed to the music. It was nice to see Melara in a dress, even if the yellow color didn’t do much for her pale, heavily-freckled skin and light gray eyes. But he thought she looked nice enough in the plaid shirts and jeans she liked to wear so much. Tywin didn’t approve, however, frowning at Melara when Jaime invited her for to join his family for dinner after homework. It wasn’t suitable for a young girl to look so rough, according to Tywin. It made Jaime liked Melara even more, and he already like her a lot to begin with.

She played soccer, could debate with him about modern visual artists and rock bands, traded painting and sketching tips with him. She also helped him with the reading sometimes, due to his dyslexia. Jaime liked to tease her for struggling with the dates in their History classes but could solve their Math word problems without breaking a sweat. Melara was cool, and possibly the coolest girl he would ever meet.

Jaime, resting his cheek against her as they danced, liked the clean scent of her hair. A braid kept her long, unruly hair neat for a change but Melara seemed ill at ease with it. She kept touching it until he took her hands and pulled her to the dance floor.

For weeks, the school had been abuzz with the dance. Jaime, who thought himself too cool for something so juvenile, had buckled down and asked her as soon as the posters were up. The embarrassment was so much worth Melara’s smile, wide, gummy and warm.

Until two nights ago, when Tywin gave Jaime the bad news.

As the song came to an end, Jaime took a deep breath and pulled away from Melara. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Sure,” she said quickly, looking relieved. They ignored the howls and hoots trailing after them as they walked hand in hand. She took her purse from the table. “Where do you want to talk?”

“Is it okay if we go somewhere quiet?” Jaime asked.

Melara looked up at him. He was tall for his age but she was one of the shortest girls in school. Her head was just at the level of his shoulder. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But to talk. Nothing else.”

Jaime blushed. “I’m not like that.”

“Yes. But I want to make sure.”

“I get it. Look, we’ll just go to courtyard, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Melara looked relieved. To get to the gym, you had to go through the courtyard. “Okay.”

They went there, still holding hands. Melara’s hand was warm and a little damp and Jaime wondered if it was hers or his, and they were transferring sweat. He led her to sit on one of the benches around the courtyard.

“I’m off to soccer camp in Highgarden for six weeks,” Melara told Jaime suddenly. “I’m sorry I told you just now. But the letter only arrived yesterday.”

Six weeks! That was such a long time to be apart. Jaime was hoping they could at least spend part of the summer together. But with what he was about to tell her, maybe it was better that they would be apart for so long. It was practice.

“No, it’s great.” He managed to say. “I know you’ve been wanting to go. That’s pretty cool, Melara. I’m happy for you.”

She beamed at him. “Really? Thank you, Jaime. We should write to each other a lot. Is that okay?”

“That sounds nice.”

Noticing finally that he was forcing himself to be enthusiastic, she frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at her and said, “I’m leaving school.”

She laughed. “Jaime, we’re all leaving school. Next year we’ll be in a new school. High school, can you believe it?”

“I’m really leaving,” he blurted out. “Lannisport. I’m leaving Lannisport.”

Melara looked puzzled. “You’re going on a trip?”

“No. Father’s sending me to boarding school.” Jaime admitted glumly.

“ _What?_ Why?”

“Because he doesn’t know what to do with me anymore.” When Melara looked dubious, he shrugged helplessly. “His words, not mine. He wasn’t happy about my grades. Or that I’ve been mouthing off to the teachers. The last straw was that fire alarm thing.”

Why couldn’t Tywin understand that the reason he was so angry and hurt was he missed his Mom so much? Jaime didn’t like how his grades had slipped either. He was never a plugger but always performed respectably enough. Since his Mom’s death, he cared little for things. He nearly got kicked off the soccer team because of absences, but he still got benched by the coach on their last game. It hurt, but not as much as missing his Mom.

“Your dad is really something,” Melara muttered. “Is he serious?”

“He sent my measurements for the suit I wore to Mom’s funeral to that school. My uniforms were shipped yesterday.”

“That’s awful, Jaime! Are you at least going somewhere close?”

His shoulders sank. “Riverrun.”

“Riverrun!”

“And I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Why? School doesn’t start for another couple of months!”

“I’m going to Dorne,” Jaime explained. “Father thinks to send me to the Martells in the hopes that Prince Doran would shape me up.”

“Wow,” Melara breathed. “He’s sending you to live with royalty?”

“It’s no vacation, Melara. It’s juvie hall as far as I’m concerned. He thinks the prince’s younger brother, Oberyn, would be a good role model. He also goes to the boarding school in Riverrun.”

They were quiet after that. Jaime grimaced at the warm gust drifting by their napes, reminded that in Dorne, the air would be as comforting as a dragon’s breath.

“Uh, w-well, y-you might ha-have a friend.” Melara would stutter when she got anxious. “At least there’s that, don’t you think so?”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What about Tyrion? And Cersei?”

“They stay.”

“I’m really sorry, Jaime.”

Melara suddenly hugged him, her skinny arms digging across his back and chest. Jaime let himself be held, realizing that it had been so long since anyone had hugged him. _The last time was Mom._

He tried to remember her scent. His Mom always smelled nice, as all moms did. But hers was a subtle, clean scent, something fresh with just the barest hint of floral. Melara didn’t wear any perfume. He wouldn’t know he was being held if not for the press of her arms, a lock of hair loosening from her braid to touch his cheek.

And then he felt the warning prick of tears.

 Panic sped up his breathing. Melara removed her arms, asking him in alarm what was the matter. Jaime shot to his feet and immediately froze. Confused, he tried to make sense of how the trees and the beige structure around them, the stars in the night, were being sucked of their color and brilliance, muddling right before his eyes. He heard the distant voice of Melara, calling his name. Fingers wrapped around his arm and he gasped, suddenly losing control of his legs. He thumped heavily back on the bench. Melara’s disembodied voice vanished in a flash and he heard her sharp cry. He turned to her, wide-eyed and panting.

“Deep breaths,” she told him, rubbing his back, her gray eyes huge before she looked around them. _There was no one to help._ “Jaime, you have to breathe. Breathe!”

He obeyed her, focusing on the sound of her voice, on her small hand on his chest, his back. Only little air could pass through his tight lungs. He closed his eyes, thinking that each breath would help his lungs expand. On and on he breathed until his heart resumed its normal pace.

“Are you okay?” Melara sounded fearful.

He nodded. “Sorry. Don’t—don’t know what happened.”

“I think you had a panic attack or something. I should get someone—” she started to leave but Jaime kept her hand on his chest.

“No.” He said softly. “Please. Stay.”

She looked at him. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “I’ll stay. But we should have the nurse check you when you’re feeling better.”

He was nodding when she suddenly kissed him. It wasn’t the first time but he froze, his lips just half-open, the tip of his tongue tasting cherry. Then Melara pulled back, pink in the face and embarrassed. Jaime’s expression was that of a deer in the headlights.

“Y-You kissed me,” he murmured.

Melara shrugged but she was still blushing. “We’ve kissed before.”

“Yeah. But. . .why did you kiss me?”

“Because you were feeling bad, dummy.”

“You didn’t kiss me when we lost that game against Silver Middle School.”

“Eww, why would I? You were all smelly and stinky. You had mud, Jaime. At least you’re just a little drooly this time.”

Her honesty was sweet, ice-cold lemonade in the oppressive hothouse that was becoming his life. He smiled and laughed. Melara frowned at him but she soon laughed along.

She put her head on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Jaime. I’ll miss you. You’re the nicest boy I’ve ever met.”

“You’re the coolest girl I know, Melara.” He said, putting an arm around her. “I’ll miss you too.”

“We should always write.”

“I agree.”

“And you should not stop painting.”

 _Let’s see what Tywin says about that._ “I’ll try.”

 “No, don’t try. Do it. You’re so good at it, Jaime. I’d hate it if you stopped.”

“Alright,” he promised, holding her close and kissing her on the forehead. “I won’t stop. You have my word.”

He thought leaving Lannisport was the worst thing about his forced exile. But it was having to leave Melara, the no-nonsense, coolest girl in Westeros.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My idea is that every girl or woman in Jaime's life will shape the kind of woman he would truly fall in love with--Brienne. As you can see with Melara, she has freckles, she has pale hair and she's supportive of Jaime. She's a bit of a tomboy too. Although Jaime often says that his first kiss was some girl in boarding school, who he never really identified, the assumption is he was quite a player back then. That's why he doesn't really remember. Maybe he would also be a little embarrassed later on that his first girlfriend was not really pretty so it kind of vanishes in his mind that Melara is his first kiss, his first girlfriend. 
> 
> In fact, he downplays it to Brienne in The Conquest of Casterly Rock. Maybe he doesn't remember as he should, or maybe he thinks he and Melara were so young so what they had doesn't really count.


End file.
